


All I Ask

by xena2210



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, M/M, S05E02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 17:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xena2210/pseuds/xena2210
Summary: Jimmy has something to ask of Thomas during his last night at Downton.(Canon-complaint, post-Jimmy being found in Lady Anstruther's room, pre-his depature from Downton. Fic inspired by Adele's song by the same name. Makes good reading music for this fic. Top!Thomas. This is basically Porn With Feelings.)





	All I Ask

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my usual fandom, nor my usual pairing, however this fic idea wouldn't leave me alone. Comments and con-crit very welcome. Unbeta-d.

It took far less pilfered whiskey than Jimmy expected for him to work up enough Dutch Courage to go to Thomas’ door. His hand shook slightly as he raised it, pausing momentarily before he knocked. It was to be expected, he supposed, given his nerves and the lingering adrenaline of being caught wrapped around Lady Anstruther.

He clenched his hand by his side at the memory, his other squeezing the neck of the whiskey bottle, in an attempt to fend off the cold, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Thomas’ face, when he cracked his door, was pale and drawn. Jimmy could hardly blame him – given the events of that night. Thomas’ eyes widened slightly in surprise as realisation dawned at exactly who was knocking at his door in the smallest hours of the night.

“Jimmy?” he asked.

When he made no move to open the door further, Jimmy cleared his throat awkwardly and raised the bottle between them.

“Night cap?” he offered, proud that he managed to keep his voice from shaking.

Thomas’ eyes flitted to the bottle, back to Jimmy’s face and then to the floor before he took a small step back and opened the door wide enough for Jimmy to squeeze past.

Jimmy did not miss the way Thomas checked the hall before taking care to shut his door as quietly as possible. Jimmy wondered what would happen should he be caught in another bedroom that night and an irrepressible grin broke across his face. Laugh or cry, he supposed, thinking of his imminent dismissal.

Thomas was watching him warily, perhaps in tune with the manic sort of energy that Jimmy could all but feel seeping from his pores.

 “What are you doin’ here?” Thomas asked, voice hushed. The exhaustion that was evident in the weary set of his shoulders thickened his accent deliciously.

A single candle, flickering dimly atop Thomas’ dresser, lit the room. Thomas himself was dressed only in his under shirt and trousers, his feet bare and his hair loose of its usual neat style. His cheeks were shadowed with a dusting of dark stubble.

Jimmy was suddenly stuck with the idea that he was the only person in the house whom Thomas allowed to see him this way - dishevelled and unkempt. He wondered how Thomas would get on with him gone but quickly banished the thought when it coaxed the cold sensation in his stomach to open up and gape.

“I haven’t any glasses.” Thomas said then, when it became apparent that Jimmy was not about to reply. “And it’s late.”

Jimmy ignored the second statement, recognising it as a gentle encouragement to return to his own room. There would be more of them, Jimmy was sure, before the night was through but he also knew that Thomas would not ask him to leave flat out. Not when he was to leave for good the next day.

“We needn’t use glasses. You and I.” Jimmy said, raising the bottle to his lips to swig from it.

The burn of the whiskey on the back of his throat helped to bolster his courage and was the best possible cure for the hollow feeling in his gut. He did not miss the way Thomas’ gaze lingered on his mouth.

A thrill passed through him and he offered the bottle to the other man, neglecting to pause to wipe the mouth of it with his sleeve.

Thomas, however, did not take the bottle from him.

“Where did you get that?” he asked instead, eyeing the labelled bottle.

Jimmy knew why of course. Nicked liquor usually came in unmarked bottles, syphoned off from dregs of those brought down from the upstairs. It did not take the form of full, labelled bottles that would be too easily missed. But Jimmy had held onto the bottle for four years, had taken it from Lady Anstruther when he’d left, knowing the consequences would hardly be able to follow him. Maybe he’d grab another on his way out of Downton.

“Filched it.” He boasted, pleased by the way Thomas raised an eyebrow, obviously impressed, but more so when the other man took the bottle from him.

“His Lordship has several decanters of this in his liquor cabinet.” Thomas observed, inspecting the label once more.

“And we’ve a bottle of it here.” Jimmy observed. “So take a drink and quit yer yapping.”

Jimmy watched as something in Thomas’ expression shifted and hardened and, though heat rose in his cheeks, he found he could not look away when Thomas finally lifted the bottle to his lips to drink.

It was quality drink and Thomas barely winced as he swallowed, the shadow of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so.

“Is that what this is, then?” he asked. “Our last harrah?”

The pit in Jimmy’s stomach gaped anew.

“Don’t.” he said, the word slipping passed his lips on a breath, surprising both he and Thomas.

Jimmy looked away, embarrassed. “I only meant. We both know that I –” he cut himself off with an irritated sigh when the words wouldn’t come.

Thomas offered no help, remaining stoically silent while Jimmy studied the floorboards just to the left of Thomas’ right foot.

“Can we not talk about it?” Jimmy managed finally.

The whole matter made him feel terribly foolish – that he had given in to Lady Anstuther’s pestering, that he’d gotten Thomas involved, that he was now forced to leave behind the one house that had felt like home since he was a babe.

What bothered him most was that it had taken the sight of cold reserve settling over Lord Grantham’s face to for him to realise the enormity of what he’d risked – and lost – that night.

The greater part of that loss stood before him, clutching his pilfered bottle of whiskey and watching him with a mixture of bemusement and worry.

“A game of cards, then?” Thomas said finally. “Or are you to read me the paper for old time’s sake?”

Jimmy smiled, glad for the joke. “Go on then.”

Thomas held the bottle out for him to take and as he took it back, Jimmy intentionally let their fingers brush. The skin of Jimmy’s forearms immediately pimpled and he wondered again if he had the nerve to carry through with his plan – with his request. He found that now he had acknowledged the extent of what he truly wanted from Thomas, his body was alive from the promise of it.

Thomas did not seem to notice the contact and turned to find his deck of cards in the top drawer of his dresser.

Jimmy swallowed around a fresh onslaught of nerves and let his eyes linger, just for a moment on the curve of Thomas’ hip as he bent to search for the cards.

Thomas’ room held no table for them to play at so Jimmy moved to sit upon the foot of Thomas’ bed, bottle cocked against his knee. Thomas did not meet his eye when he turned, cards in hand but moved to sit at the opposite end of the cot without comment.

“What do you fancy?” Thomas asked, shuffling the cards through his hands, agile despite the damage to his left.

He was not wearing his glove and somehow, despite his state of semi-undress, that piece of bare flesh seemed more intimate than all the rest.

Jimmy had shed his livery after the commotion outside was settled – after Carson had informed him of his dismissal – but he was glad for the high collar of his shirt.

He had no doubt that - even in the dim light of the room - Thomas would be able to see how the flush of his cheeks spread all the way down his throat were the collar not there to protect it from view.

“Gin.” Jimmy said, knowing it was one of the only games at which he could best Thomas.

The arch of Thomas’ eyebrow suggested he knew as well but he dealt the cards without argument.

Jimmy hadn’t wagered how the card game would occupy their attention and - with the one topic with which their minds were both occupied off the table  - they carried on in silence for a while as Jimmy tried desperately to think of something to say.

The bottle was passed back and forth between them until Thomas refused his turn and Jimmy set it gently to the side of the bed. He’d had enough to drink, he decided. He did not want Thomas to be able to blame the drink later on when he finally worked up the courage to make his request.

Thomas won the first game and was well on his way during the second before he suddenly spoke, words bursting out of him like water through a crack in a dam wall.

“Where will you go?” he demanded.

Jimmy shrugged; stomach twisting and agitated that Thomas had not been able to ignore the inevitable as he’d requested. Even for a little while.

“Carson says my reference will be acceptable enough on the request of his Lordship. Don’t want to cause scandal, he says.”

When he looked up, Thomas was watching him, concern marring his handsome face.

“Will Lady Anstruther take you back?” he asked.

Jimmy shook his head. “Even if she would – I’d not go back to her. Old bat. She’s the one got me into this mess.”

Thomas looked away, his hand of cards deserted face down on the bedspread, as he reached for a cigarette and his lighter.

 “Takes two to tango.” He said and Jimmy flushed, shame-faced.

“Then, the tango’s not exactly what we were doing, was it?” He shot back, knowing it would get under Thomas’ skin.

Thomas took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling with a huff. Jimmy looked back to his own hand but there was little he could do when Thomas refused to finish his turn. He did not want to bait Thomas - quite the opposite. But the other man could push his buttons like nobody’s business and he’d never been good at ignoring jibes.

“Sorry.” He bit out, looking up once again. “I meant what I said. Earlier. Upstairs. You’re a real pal. The best I ever had.”

In return, Thomas gave him the same thin-lipped smile he often gave Carson when the old prig was being particularly mulish. Jimmy did not appreciate being on the receiving end of it.

“You’ve gone soppy with the drink.” Thomas said as he tapped his cigarette gently to the side of the ashtray on his bedside table.

“I haven’t.” Jimmy protested. “I just wanted you to know I meant it.”

Thomas sighed and deflated as though he were a puppet that had just had its strings cut. He stubbed his cigarette out harshly against the side of the ashtray even though it was only half gone.

“Fer gods’ake, why did you do it?” he demanded, eyes flashing as he turned back to Jimmy. “You could’ve just ignored her! Not gone to her room, let her look foolish. Why did you have to play her game, Jimmy?”

Jimmy sat back, surprised by the vehemence in Thomas’ voice. He opened his mouth to reply but no words came. He thought for a moment about getting angry. After all, he would not have been in Lady Anstruther’s room without Thomas’ help.

But then, Thomas had only helped because of his loyalty to Jimmy, because of their friendship, and getting angry would do little more than mar their last night together and spoil any chance of what Jimmy had come for.

“Well?” Thomas questioned. “I think after everything, I deserve some answer better than: ‘I can’t resist it’.”

Jimmy felt his hackles rise at the less than flattering impression Thomas made of him. A retort burned at the tip of his tongue.

‘Like you couldn’t resist me?’ he longed to say. ‘When you thought I was offering it up on a plate?’

But all that served to do was bring the memory of that night back to the forefront of his mind. Waking to the gentle scent of cigarettes, brillatine and soap, the soft touch of Thomas’ lips on his own, the scrape of Thomas’ five o’clock shadow on his cheek. The cold dread when he’d heard Alfred’s voice, the hot fear that made him push Thomas away – threaten him – and then act like a mad man for months following.

He opened his mouth and closed it again, struck – not for the first time – by how those few barely-conscious seconds with Thomas had been more thrilling than all the times he’d been with Lady Anstruther put together. He’d been a fool not to realise straight away what it had meant – a man trying to ignore a harsh reality, yes, but a fool all the same.

“I’ve been a right fool.” He admitted to Thomas though he doubted the other man knew they were hardly talking about the same thing anymore.

Thomas scoffed. “And no mistake. I nearly pulled you back by the scruff of your neck when you started to walk down that hall. Nearly spoke aloud just so you’d keep walking passed that old tart’s room and be done with this nonsense.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jimmy asked, curious what motive had kept Thomas from listening to his intuition.

Thomas laughed, though it was mirthless sound, and stood - upsetting the cards on the bed between them. He moved away from the bed, his right hand pushing through the loose fall of his dark hair. His left hand twitched the way it did when he wanted a cigarette, a shadow of the motion of flipping his lighter open.

“Because I have never been able to deny you anything.” He said with his back to Jimmy and sounding as if he were confessing his sins before a priest. “Not since that day you walked into the kitchen, looking for Mr. Carson.”

“Because of my pretty face?” Jimmy offered, trying to press the issue. 

Thomas made an unhappy sound in his throat, his hands on his hips.

“Do you still think so little of me?” he asked after a long moment, voice hushed as though perhaps Jimmy was not meant to hear him.

“Thomas.” Jimmy said then, the name still unfamiliar on his tongue. Was he really to ask this man to bed him when they were only barely on a first name basis? “I think very highly of you.”

Thomas’ face, when he turned, was pained. “That’s good of you to say. Me – being what I am.”

It was the tone of defeat in Thomas’ voice that urged Jimmy forward, the last of his reservations crumbling under the desire to never hear Thomas speak in such a tone ever again.

“I’ve no issue with the way you are.” He said, surprised by how much he meant it but he supposed it would be very hypocritical of him to damn Thomas for actions that he now wanted to encourage.

Thomas’ brow raised in disbelief. “You’ll forgive me, I’m sure, for finding that hard to believe.”

Jimmy looked away, ashamed, but found the strength to stand even though his knees seemed to tremble beneath him. Now or never, he reasoned.

“Shall I prove it to you then?” he asked with bravado that he did not feel.

Thomas’ face was once again transformed, surprise making his features go slack and soft.

Jimmy took the element of surprise and turned it to his advantage, stepping forward and insinuating himself into Thomas’ personal space.

“What are you doing?” Thomas murmured.

Jimmy could not find the words to reply. He doubted, anyway, if Thomas would listen to an explanation.

Suddenly, there was barely a foot of space between them. Jimmy’s pulse seemed to thunder in his ears as he tilted his head back. He had not factored in Thomas’ height. He would have to stand on his toes to reach Thomas’ lips if the other man were to remain frozen as he was, staring at Jimmy as though he’d suddenly sprouted another head.

For the first time that night, Jimmy had doubts about whether his advances would be welcome. He had been so sure that, despite everything, Thomas still held a torch for him. The notion had made it impossible to pause on his way to Lady Anstruther’s room. Somehow he’d known that if he’d looked back, he would’ve thrown the whole thing over, unable to hurt a friend that had gone to such lengths to help him.

Though, he supposed now, ‘friend’ was far too simple a term to describe Thomas and all the he meant to him.

“Jimmy.” Thomas said then. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

“I’ve had same as you.” Jimmy said, finally finding his voice. He reconsidered then. “Save a mouthful or two for courage before I came in. But I’d made my mind up before that.”

“Made your mind up about what?” Thomas asked, his chin drawn back to look Jimmy in the eye.

Jimmy lifted his hand but before he could touch Thomas, the other man knocked his arm away with such force that he stumbled.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Thomas demanded, suddenly fierce.

Jimmy’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t reckoned on that – on anger. He held up his hands in an attempt to pacify Thomas and was struck with how the image he made mirrored that which Thomas had made in Jimmy’s room all those years ago.

“No!” Jimmy cried.

Thomas’ winced at the volume of Jimmy’s voice and they both looked to the door for several long silent moments. When no murmur of voices or creak of floorboards answered from the hall, Jimmy looked back to Thomas.

The other man looked broken. He was breathing hard and his eyes were glassy, his face flushed. He looked to Jimmy as though he had stabbed him, his hands fluttering between them.

“You – you…” he murmured. “You can’t be serious.”

Jimmy swallowed hard, a rush of nerves threatening to overcome him at the prospect of having to explain himself. Every fevered dream of this moment, every errant daydream that he had tried to squash, held little room for words and was much more focused around action.

“Dammit Jimmy, start talking.” Thomas exclaimed plaintively.

Jimmy took a fortifying breath. “I don’t know if I can.” He admitted.

“You can bloody well try.” Thomas argued. “Because the last time you and I stood this close in a bedroom, late at night, you threatened to clock me.”

“And you kissed me.” Jimmy shot back. “What I want, Mr Barrow – Thomas – is for you to do it again.”

Thomas’ mouth opened in shock, though no sound nor - Jimmy was sure - breath passed his lips. He seemed frozen.

“Please.” Jimmy found himself saying. “I don’t know how to ask for this.”

“Ask for _what_?” Thomas demanded.

Jimmy’s mind reeled. He didn’t know. Not truly. He had come to Thomas’ room assuming the other man would take the lead – take Jimmy in his arms, take him to bed. He didn’t know what two men did together – save for the derogatory talk he’d heard at some of the less reputable pubs he’d drank in – and he certainly didn’t know how that ask for that. He didn’t know if he wanted to ask for that.

What he did want was to play pretend – to pretend that the next day didn’t exist, to pretend he’d had the courage all that time ago to kiss Thomas back, to pretend that he hadn’t been so dim for all those months, to pretend he’d been brave enough to make something with Thomas.

Thomas – who was looking at him with such honest yet broken hope, who knew him better than anyone, who seemed to love him – and not just for his face, who was the only one who had ever really mattered anyway and who Jimmy wanted more than anything or anyone he’d ever come across in his life.

“For you.” He said finally. “I’m asking for you.”

Thomas released a noise that sounded horribly like a sob. It rattled about against Jimmy’s ribs, tried to force itself up his throat and then settled like ice around his heart.

“Dammit Jimmy.” Thomas cursed. “You don’t half ask for much.”

The laugh that escaped Jimmy stuttered across his lips and it was a jagged, broken thing that had very little to do with mirth. He stepped closer to Thomas once more before his courage could fail him completely. If things turned south now, he supposed, at least Thomas would have the opportunity to throw Jimmy out of his room the way Jimmy had once done to him.

When Thomas made no move to stop him or to move away himself, Jimmy took a step closer still, until he was almost pressed to Thomas’ front, the barest breath of space between them – saving them yet from the sins Jimmy wanted to commit.

When he turned his face up to the other man, Jimmy could feel the warm flutter of Thomas’ laboured breath across his cheeks, could feel how tightly Thomas held himself – as though he couldn’t trust himself when Jimmy was so close. The idea of Thomas’ wavering self-control made Jimmy bold.

“Tell me how to ask.” he pressed.

Thomas huffed out another breath, warm and heavy with the scent of the whiskey, and Jimmy felt drunk with it as he breathed it in. He closed his eyes.

“Thomas.” He tried again, knowing he was begging and already sick with the idea of it. “Tell me.”

Thomas’ next breath was even unsteadied than his last but it seemed to fan the heat building under Jimmy’s skin regardless.

“Tell –”

“Take me to bed.” Thomas said suddenly, his voice tight.

Jimmy’s eyes shot open in shock.

Thomas was watching him, his chin tucked to his neck, eyes almost unfocused with how close they were.

“Say it. If you truly want it – say it.” He breathed and Jimmy’s eyes slid shut again, heavy with the lust the seared through his blood at the sound of Thomas’ voice, soft and wanting.

His next breath filled the space between them - his chest rising as it filled to press against Thomas’ own - and that first physical touch set Jimmy trembling.

Thomas’ forehead came to rest on his own and Jimmy knew that if he raised himself onto his toes, he’d be able to reach the other man’s lips. He’d be able to pay Thomas back the sullied kiss he’d been holding onto, pay him back and make him forget it all at once. He’d be able to –

“Say it.” Thomas pleaded, his hands coming to clutch at Jimmy’s upper arms, just below the curve of his shoulders. “Jesus, Jimmy, say it.”

“Take me to bed.” Jimmy gasped, the heat of Thomas’ hands burning through him like wild fire.

“Oh.” Thomas breathed and Jimmy arched up to receive the kiss that he was sure was coming.

It did not. Instead, Thomas’ hands tightened on his shoulders and he was forced back to the flat of his feet. Thomas’ forehead rolled across his own as though he was shaking his head.

“Kiss me.” Thomas said then and Jimmy tried, only to let out a frustrated sound when Thomas held him back once more.

“Say it.” Thomas said instead and Jimmy felt himself melt in Thomas’ hands as realisation flooded over him.

Thomas wanted him to ask – wanted to be sure that Jimmy asked for everything, wanted to be sure there could be no confusion concerning what Jimmy wanted and that Jimmy wanted it from him.

“Kiss me.” Jimmy bleated then. “Kiss me. Kiss –”

His pleas were cut short when Thomas pressed their lips together, wet and parted, swallowing down the next words from Jimmy’s mouth and answering them with the broken, wretched sound of long sought satisfaction that tumbled from his own.

Jimmy had never been kissed so forcefully. He let his head loll backwards, offering his mouth up as Thomas wormed somehow closer, the height difference between them suddenly more apparent than ever.

Jimmy felt possessed, overcome by the heat of Thomas against him and the slick of his lips against Jimmy’s own. He was suddenly glad for the way Thomas clutched at his arms, thinking wildly that he may fall if he were required to stand under his own power, especially when Thomas’ tongue swept across his lower lip.

He chased it with his own, only for Thomas to pull back and leave him chasing the warm air of his breath.

Jimmy’s eyes flew open, startled, and immediately his attention caught on the sheen of spit across Thomas’ bottom lip – evidence that Jimmy had been there, that he now knew what Thomas tasted like.

But when he leant in to taste him again, Thomas held him at bay. Jimmy rocked back onto his heels, his brow furrowing with confusion. Thomas’ expression held no clues to what the other man was thinking; his eyes still heavy with want and his mouth parted and glossy – he looked the picture of desire, and yet he held Jimmy away.

“Thomas.” Jimmy coaxed, thinking Thomas wanted him to ask again. “Kiss me.”

But Thomas made no indication of having heard him and when he spoke his voice was small and guarded.

“Why now, Jimmy?”

Jimmy’s hands had come to rest of Thomas’ slim hips and they instinctively curled into the material of Thomas’ shirt when the question registered through the hazed of desire clouding his thoughts. Surely Thomas did not mean to turn him away, not with everything that had happened that night. Not when tomorrow Jimmy would leave and possibly never see Thomas again – not when Thomas loved him the way Jimmy was almost sure he did. Not when Jimmy –

Thomas’ hands unfurled from around Jimmy’s biceps, coming to rest gently over Jimmy’s elbows, and Jimmy watched helplessly as Thomas’ expression began to shutter closed, the warmth and desire in his gaze replaced by concern and something close to suspicion.

“Why now?” Thomas repeated.

“Thomas.” Jimmy said again weakly. “I don’t –”

He was cut off then Thomas stepped out of the shadow of their embrace. Jimmy’s fingers ached as the material of Thomas’ shirt slid through them and he realised suddenly just how tightly he had been holding onto the other man.

“You don’t know?” Thomas asked.

Jimmy shook his head. He knew, of course he knew. Tomorrow he would leave Downton behind – the only house he’d come across that had felt even close to a home. He’d leave behind Mrs. Pattmore and her cooking, he’d leave behind Daisy and Alfred and the stolen moments of laughter in the Servant’s Hall and the stern set of Mr. Carson’s ridiculous eyebrows. He’d leave behind Ripon and the pub where people knew his name and the barmaid who sometimes winked at him and he could bear all of that – he could.

But what he could not bear - what he thought might kill him - was the idea of leaving behind the man who had somehow become his dearest and most loyal friend, whose smile made Jimmy’s stomach try to backflip in his gut, who had fought for him, who always shared his cigarettes, who stayed up to play cards with Jimmy when he couldn’t sleep, who – now – knew Jimmy better than Jimmy wagered his own Ma and Da had done.

Whom Jimmy loved more than anything he’d ever come across in all of his 22 years.

But he didn’t have the words for all that. Not when he was half-jazzed and still reeling from the intensity of Thomas’ kiss.

“It matters.” He found himself saying. “This matters - you and me.”

Thomas scoffed. “You and me?”

Jimmy felt himself bristle. “Yes, you and me.” he said a little more hotly than he meant.

Thomas’ tone set his teeth against each other – the scornful edge of Thomas’ voice making him feel foolish and naïve for having ever entertained the thought of he and Thomas as something more.

Thomas’ nostrils flared, his chest puffing out as he drew himself to his full height. “A matter of hours ago, I was helping you sneak into a woman’s room and now you address me like you’re my – my lover, like I have some sort of loyalty to you!”

“Don’t you?!” Jimmy demanded desperately. “Don’t you?!”

Thomas’ mouth straightened into a harsh, angry line and he made no response – only stood and considered Jimmy with an expression that Jimmy could not place.

Silence descended over the small room and from the corner of his eye Jimmy could see the way the candlelight flicked against the wall behind Thomas’ dresser. The dim light also served to exacerbate the shadows of Thomas’ face and Jimmy could see the moment that Thomas clenched his teeth. He wondered what it was that Thomas would not allow himself to say and suddenly the wretchedness of the situation fell upon him, heavy and inescapable, like water pressing in on a drowning man.

“Kiss me.” He pleaded and Thomas’ expression broke open as though Jimmy had struck him, raw and ugly.

“You can’t -” Thomas rasped out.

“Kiss me.” Jimmy said again. “Kiss me, Thomas.”

Thomas shook his head slowly and Jimmy watched, transfixed, as the other man’s eyes grew bright with unshed tears. His heart pounded against his ribs, his own pulse throbbing in his ears.

“Kiss me.” He whispered. “I’m askin’. Please.”

Thomas shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You can.” Jimmy begged. “I want you to.”

“No, Jimmy!” Thomas countered harshly. “I _can’t_. I dare’n’t. Not when – tomorrow – tomorrow –”

Jimmy flushed when Thomas’ voice cut off with an ugly sob. He knew, in that moment, that Thomas did love him – had loved him in a reserved, distant sort of way since their unsteady truce had begun all those years before. He also realised the hideousness of what he was asking of Thomas, coming to him late into his final night at Downton and offering up everything he had once irrevocably denied Thomas on a silver platter.

But still, the realisation was not enough to make him stop – not when the thought that he may be able to ease the suffering of the other man burnt so hotly in his chest, not when the heat of Thomas’ hands on him and the thrill of his kiss still pulsed through his veins.

With shaking hands, Jimmy reached for the top most button of his shirt and fumbled it loose. The second button came more easily, and the third even more so again.

“Jimmy.” Thomas warned as Jimmy’s fingers hit the fourth button.

Jimmy paused only a moment before neglecting his buttons altogether and hauling his shirt over his head by its hem. He let it drop to the floor by his feet. Thomas’ eyes followed the movement before trailing back up the length of Jimmy’s body, so heavy with intent that Jimmy felt their journey like a caress.

It was ridiculous - he thought – that he should feel more undressed in front of Thomas, standing in his undershirt and trousers, than he had ever done when he was starkers with a dame. But then, he had never felt about any woman, the way he did for the man before him.

“Thomas.” Jimmy said and a shiver rolled down his spine as Thomas’ gaze lifted to his.  “Please. ”

The moment Thomas’ resolve broke was like watching cracks spider across glass, the tension between them splintering apart and cleaving Thomas’ expression open as he crossed the room in two long strides and gathered Jimmy against him.

Unprepared, Jimmy stumbled backwards, his breath knocked from his lungs, his hands clutching at Thomas – at the hard curve of his shoulders and the warmth of the bare skin that ran alongside his undershirt. In return, Thomas’ left hand found the base of Jimmy’s skull, fingers winding tightly through his hair, while his right found the hem of Jimmy’s own undershirt and dipped beneath.

The heat of Thomas’ hand felt like a branding iron against the small of Jimmy’s back, searing and permanent, as though Jimmy would carry the echo of the touch forever. Yet it was nothing compared to the insistent press of Thomas’ lips against his own. Struck dumb by the desire that flashed through him, Jimmy found he could do little more than whimper helplessly against the other man’s mouth as Thomas continued to bite at his lips.

Jimmy gasped when his back hit the wall, disorientated and unaware of the distance they had travelled, wound together and stumbling. Thomas took advantage of Jimmy’s lax mouth and licked inside, the taste of his cigarette and the bite of the whiskey on his breath causing the flesh of Jimmy’s forearms to pimple as he tried to kiss back, overwhelmed.

He clutched at Thomas, his hands flailing from his shoulders to his hair, the pull causing another of those wretched, needy sounds to fall from Thomas’ lips. Jimmy found himself chuckling breathlessly in response, elated by the proof that Thomas felt as overwhelmed and taken apart by the kiss as he did.

Seemingly in retaliation, Thomas pressed him to the wall, Jimmy’s shoulders trapped by the press of Thomas’ chest, his groin by the strong muscle of Thomas right thigh, the knee pressed to the wood of the wall between Jimmy’s own. The pressure of Thomas’ thigh made the simmer of arousal in his blood flare bright and his knees all but buckled as he panted into Thomas’ determined mouth.

With the little thought he was able to manage, Jimmy wondered faultingly where Thomas had learnt to kiss the way that he did – like it was a battle, a struggle to be won. He wanted to punch whoever had kissed Thomas like this way. Or maybe shake their hand. But then Thomas drew him closer still and his thoughts reeled and slipped away all at once, chased away by the insistent press of Thomas’ own arousal against his hip.

His mouth tore away from Thomas’ with a gasp, shock and desire crashing over him in equal amounts, his hands curling into fists in Thomas’ hair as his hips jumped forward, bold.

Denied Jimmy’s mouth, Thomas’ lips found the slope of Jimmy’s throat, damp and hot as they opened over Jimmy’s thundering pulse and seared their way up to the curve of his jaw.

“Oh.” Jimmy breathed, realisation dawning that the burn on his skin was – in part – the rough scratch of Thomas’ stubble.

He wondered helplessly what that same scratch might feel like against the skin of his thighs and let out another helpless sound before Thomas caught his mouth with another kiss, effectively silencing him.

“Jimmy,” Thomas breathed a moment later, his words muffled by the kiss Jimmy refused to surrender. “Ask me to undress you.”

Jimmy nodded, pushing at Thomas’ hands until they found the waist of his trousers. When he went to kiss Thomas again, the other man tilted his head to the side and their cheeks met instead, the catch and drag of their stubble making Jimmy sigh.

He tilted his chin to rub against Thomas’ cheek once more, thoroughly distracted by the way the friction pulled tight at the arousal pooling low in his gut. 

“Jimmy.” Thomas managed a little more sternly. “Ask me.”

Jimmy hummed, positive that Thomas’ mouth could be put to better use than talking, and asked for another kiss by tipping his head up and parting his lips.

“Oh, you gorgeous thing.” Thomas said and Jimmy felt the other man’s hands go tight on his hips.

When the statement was not followed by another kiss, Jimmy forced his eyes to open.  Thomas’ eyes were hooded, his pupils blown wide and his mouth was slack, his lips slick and kiss-red.

“Ask me to undress you.” Thomas said again.

“Undress me.” Jimmy told him immediately. The skin of his face was burning, hot with the friction of Thomas’ stubble and the indecency of what he was asking – telling – the other man to do.

Thomas’ hands moved to Jimmy’s flies, awkward in the mere fraction of space between them, bumping so close to Jimmy’s arousal that his breath caught in his throat. The sound of Thomas’ hands rustling against the fabric of his trousers seemed absurdly loud in the stillness of the room, matched only by the rasp of their breathing and the heady thrum of Jimmy’s own pulse in his ears.

“Ask me to take off your undershirt.” Thomas breathed and Jimmy watched the bob of the other man’s throat as he swallowed thickly.

“Take it off.” Jimmy said and the first graze of Thomas’ fingers against the skin of his abdomen made him twitch.

He winced when Thomas stopped moving and dropped his eyes to where the other man’s hands stayed curled in his undershirt.

“Easy.” Thomas soothed him. “Arms up.”

Jimmy followed the gentle instruction and found himself unable to draw a breath as Thomas skimmed him free of his undershirt. He had barely lowered his arms when Thomas’ hands were on him, spread across his skin, hot and shocking, trailing paths over his chest and waist.

“Jimmy.” Thomas said and his tone made Jimmy look up once more.

Struck by the other man’s expression, Jimmy found he could not help but wonder if anyone would ever again look at him in the way Thomas was in that moment – all awe and heat. It almost made Jimmy want to cover himself, the intensity of Thomas’ gaze almost enough to make Jimmy shove him away and hide.

“Kiss me.” He begged instead, pulling the other man to him. “God, Thomas –”

But his voice broke and failed as Thomas’ right hand trailed over his stomach until the other man’s finger tips paused and rested at the waist band of his underclothes.

“Ask me.” Thomas said. 

Jimmy sunk back against the wall, the enormity of the moment crashing over him in a shiver that ran from the back of his neck to the soles of his feet. Was this, he wondered, the point of no return? Despite the reactions Thomas had already drawn from him, surely if the other man were to touch him that way - in such an unmistakably intimate fashion – he would never be able to deny what that meant or what sort of man it made him.

But, in that moment, surrounded by the heat and scent of the other man, he found he could not bring himself to care.

“Touch me.” He told Thomas, wrapping his hand around the other man’s right wrist. “Please.”

He pushed Thomas’ hand lower, air rushing into his lungs as the warmth of Thomas’ palm cupped his erection through his underwear. Thomas slumped into him, his breath hot across Jimmy’s face. Jimmy was barely aware of Thomas’ left hand coming up over his shoulder to press against the wall, steadying the other man as he swayed forward to claim Jimmy’s mouth once again.

As they kissed, Jimmy could feel the tendons of the other man’s wrist shift and roll beneath his skin as Thomas fondled him. Before long, he was forced to tear his mouth away in order to breathe, in order to pant roughly into his own shoulder as Thomas’ touch stoked the arousal burning through him.

Thomas’ mouth found his neck once more, the rasp of his stubble a startling counterpoint to the hot swathes of his tongue across the junction of Jimmy’s shoulder and neck.

Jimmy was almost shocked by his pleasure, awed by the way it built higher and higher, seemingly fathomless. Only hours before, he had been wound around Lady Ansthruther, not a stitch of clothing between them, and  yet it had not felt like this. Nothing ever had.

Distantly, he could feel the tension in Thomas’ limbs and how stiffly the other man was holding himself. He could not see Thomas’ face as it remained tucked to his throat and instead pressed up into the other man, trapping Thomas’ hand between them and inadvertently pressing the back of his own hand against the bulge behind Thomas’ fly.

Jimmy froze, appalled that he had not considered the other man’s pleasure until he was viscerally reminded of it. He released Thomas’ wrist, intending to touch the other man or - at the very least - rid him of some of his clothes. However, as he did so, Thomas shrunk away from him, his hands and mouth sliding away and leaving Jimmy shivering.

Confused, Jimmy looked to the other man.

“Thomas?”

“Sorry.” Thomas said immediately. “Sorry – just –”

He began to sink to his knees, unconcerned – it seemed – about the state of his trousers, and reached out for Jimmy once more.

“What – ?” Jimmy gasped, thrown by the sight of Thomas’ face so close to his crotch and the evidence of his arousal.

Thomas watched him with dark eyes. “Ask me.”

Jimmy’s mind drew blank, unable to focus on anything but the sight of Thomas’ slick mouth and the heat of his gaze. Thomas’ hands pressed his hips back against the wall.

“I don’t –” he stuttered, unsure. Surely Thomas as not suggesting that –

“Ask me to put my mouth on you.” Thomas said and Jimmy could not understand how the other man’s voice stayed so steady when he said such filth.

“Bloody hell.” Jimmy breathed, his gaze catching once again on Thomas’ bottom lip.

“Ask me, Jimmy.” Thomas said again. “Say: Thomas, put your mouth on me.”

Jimmy arched his hips forward into the press of Thomas’ hands, heat washing over him as Thomas spoke. Thomas’ gaze bore into him, pinning him, willing him to speak. He swallowed thickly.

“Thomas” he choked out. “Put your mouth on me.”

Thomas’ answering grin was a feral curl of his lips and Jimmy only saw it for the briefest of moments before Thomas leant forward and pressed his mouth to where Jimmy was doing his best to stain his own undergarments.

“Christ!” Jimmy hissed, unprepared for the shocking torridness of the sight. He jammed his eyes shut, tipping his head back again the wall, feeling as though the image of Thomas’ red mouth against the cotton of his underwear would be enough to undo him.

Jimmy’s hands fluttered uselessly in the air by his sides, before seizing Thomas’ shoulders when the other man peeled his underwear back an inch and breathed across the damp head of his arousal.

“Ask me.” Thomas rumbled but Jimmy was already nodding hurriedly.

When he looked back down, he felt his mouth go slack at the sight of his prick so close to Thomas’ mouth. Thomas’ lids were heavy but the gaze beneath them was searing and Jimmy felt – not for the first time that night – that he might incinerate under the heat of Thomas’ gaze.

“Please.” Jimmy breathed. “Please. Do it.”

He half-thought that Thomas would deny him for not asking properly, for not saying the right words. But then he watched, rapt, as Thomas leant forward once more and swathed his tongue across the clammy head of his prick.

“Yes.” He gasped. “Yes, Thomas. Just like that.” 

He had never felt anything like it – especially when Thomas hummed and leant forward again, taking more of him in. The few fevered kisses he’d stolen from a handful of maids and from Ivy had never gone this far and Lady Anstruther, for all her gall, would never have lowered herself to perform such an act on a footman.

But Thomas seemed to know exactly how to do it – exactly how to touch Jimmy – to make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams. He clutched at Thomas’ shoulders, trying to draw him closer, trying to get deeper. In return, Thomas exhaled shortly through his nose and crowded Jimmy tighter against the wall, licking him from root to tip before taking him in once more.

Jimmy groaned, unable to quell the noise as it tore out of him. Thomas pulled back, fighting against Jimmy’s hands as they tangled in his hair, trying to stop his retreat, and hushed him.

“You have to be quiet.” He whispered, the amusement in his tone taking the sting out of his admonishment.  

Jimmy found he couldn’t speak for the harshness of his own breathing. He gasped again when Thomas took him in hand, stroking him in the absence of the heat of his mouth. Thomas grinned.

“Quiet.” He warned again.

Jimmy drew in a deep steadying breath and managed to unclench the curl of his fists in Thomas’ hair. He felt giddy with the pleasure Thomas was drawing from him however, he was more affected still by the teasing smirk gracing Thomas’ face. He smoothed his thumb across Thomas’ scratchy cheek, shivering when the tip of the digit caught the curl of Thomas’ smirk and pulled at it.

Thomas’ gaze burned anew as he flicked his tongue over Jimmy’s thumb and Jimmy could not help but swear under his breath. Whatever nerves he had felt upon entering Thomas’ room were gone – obliterated by the passion the other man had shown him and the wonder Thomas regarded him with. He knew then that he wanted whatever else Thomas would give him; that whatever the following months, and years, would bring without the other man – that he wanted, _needed_ , the memories of this night together to get him through.

“Thomas.” He breathed. “What else is there?

Thomas’ brow furrowed and, in turn, Jimmy urged him to his feet. When Thomas was on his feet once again, Jimmy realised suddenly that the other man was still dressed in his undershirt and trousers. In comparison, Jimmy felt rather exposed, wearing naught but his shoes and socks and his trousers pulled down to his knees.

He reached to rid Thomas of some of the offending articles of clothing only to have the other man step out of the reach of his grasp.

“Thomas?” he asked, confused.

Thomas shook his head gently. “There’s no need for that.” He said, tone falsely light. “Come to the bed and I’ll-” he broke off, his cheeks flushing and Jimmy could not help the way his body reacted to the mere suggestion. Feeling foolish, his hiked his own trousers back up to his hips in an effort to protect some of his modesty.

“Take off your shirt.” Jimmy said instead and then, when Thomas made no move to do so, said: “I’m askin’ you.”  

Thomas regarded him for a long moment. “Forgive me, Jimmy, I didn’t think that’s the sort of thing you’d be after.”

It was Jimmy’s turn to frown. “What?”

Thomas’s mouth pulled into a tight unhappy line. “I only meant that I thought you wouldn’t want to –” he paused as though he was looking for the right word and then finished “- reciprocate.”

Jimmy huffed, frustrated. “Shows what you know.” He groused.

Thomas squared his shoulders. “Jimmy-”

“Take off your shirt, Thomas.” Jimmy interrupted, as firm as he could manage. He’d never thought he would ask such a thing of another man – not with the same intent behind it.

Thomas regarded him for another long moment before reaching behind himself to grasp the neck of his undershirt and shuck it off. Exposed, he stood before Jimmy, his shoulders squared. He looked like a man, Jimmy thought wildly, who was readying himself for a fight and Jimmy was struck suddenly, by the nature of Thomas’ biting kisses. Not for the first time, he wondered who had taught Thomas to battle this way.

He reached for the other man, drawing him closer with hands that trembled against the heat of Thomas’ skin. Thomas swayed into him, sighing when the skin of their chests fused together between them. Jimmy smoothed his hands over Thomas’ shoulders, holding him tightly so that Thomas could not retreat when the evidence of his arousal pressed once more against Jimmy’s hip.

Jimmy was relieved when Thomas did not make him ask for another kiss as he did not believe his voice would have held out. Instead, he clung to Thomas as the other man took his lips once more and they swayed together in the middle of the room for long, heady moments as Jimmy tried to convince Thomas that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Bloody hell.” Thomas breathed against Jimmy’s lips then and Jimmy could not help the satisfied smile that crept onto his face. He was pleased – so ridiculously proud – that he had managed to take Thomas apart so thoroughly. Thomas – Mr. Barrow – who was so usually put together, had been reduced to the trembling, swearing man before him with only a few kisses and a taste of his cock.

The thought made arousal kick through his gut once again. “Take me to bed.” He asked – he told – Thomas. “Take me to bed.”

Thomas chuckled. “This must be a dream.” He said. “A ridiculous, wonderful dream.”

Jimmy felt his face flare with heat. “Sap.” He accused.

The answering grin on Thomas’ face was a soft, gentle thing and quite unexpectedly – the gaping feeling in Jimmy’s gut reopened and he felt hollowed out once more. To think he may never see the expression on Thomas’ face again after that night was almost too much. To think he may never be loved again in the selfless way Thomas loved him – to think he may never feel the same way he felt about Thomas about anyone else…

“Take me to bed.” He implored. “It’s not a dream, I promise.”

Thomas’ grin remained firm. “You’re a little over-dressed.” He observed as he smoothed his hands over Jimmy’s midriff to hook his thumbs into the waist of his trousers. Undone as they were, his trousers slipped an inch across his skin and he shivered as the course material pulled across his cock.

“I could say the same of you.” He retorted.

Thomas hummed noncommittally but when he made no move to rectify the situation, Jimmy steadied his nerves and stepped out of the other man’s embrace.

“Do I need to lead by example?” He asked and was proud at how little his voice shook.

He toed off his shoes, unworried for the moment about scuffing them, and then eased his pants from his hips, letting them fall and pool about his feet. Standing bare in front of the other man he found – suddenly – that he could not meet Thomas’ eye. However, looking away only served to redirect his gaze to Thomas’ hands as they moved to the fastenings on his trousers and began to undo them.

The sight of white cotton peaking out from between Thomas’ open flies reminded Jimmy of the first blue magazine he’d seen – how seeing the women in their drawers had made them seem even more exposed than when they were fully bare. He swallowed hard as Thomas pushed his trousers down and stepped out of them, leaving him in his unders.

“What now?” he asked, glancing up briefly to meet Thomas’ eye.

The other man’s face was a careful blank mask, the meticulously schooled neutral expression of a man who had spent his life in service, and it wrenched Jimmy’s heart to see. Did Thomas expect him to give over now? Did the other man expect him to laugh and admit the night had been a ruse? A taunting thank-you but no thank-you?

Once again, Jimmy found that Thomas’ uncertainty leant him strength. He stepped around the other man, hot under Thomas’ gaze. He caught Thomas’ hand, his left, and held it gently as he coaxed him towards the bed. Sitting on the end of the thin mattress, Jimmy watched the look of surprise bloom across Thomas’ features with a deep sense of satisfaction.

“Come to bed.” Jimmy told him, tugging indulgently on Thomas’ hand.

The expression on Thomas’ face was a heady mixture of surprise, hope and disbelief. He came closer under Jimmy’s coaxing, interlacing Jimmy’s fingers with his own, his scarred left hand clumsy as he did so.

“D’you mean it, Jimmy?” he asked. “I – we don’t have to do more than we have. It would be quite enough for me.”

It was the most either of them had spoken since Thomas had kissed him and somewhat ridiculously, it made Jimmy nervous.

“I’d ask for it.” He said. “But I don’t know how.”

Thomas exhaled a soft laugh and folded once more to the ground, kneeling before where Jimmy sat on his bed. Jimmy felt his cock twitch with interest where it lay against his thigh as their joined hands came to rest on his knee. He felt a gentle pressure then and spread his legs under Thomas’ guidance.

“You must tell me –” Thomas began as he spread his right hand over Jimmy’s thigh as well. “If there’s anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

Jimmy flushed, disconcerted about being spread so wantonly before Thomas as the other man soothed his thighs apart further still.

“Yer make me sound like a blushing virgin.” He groused in an effort to distract Thomas or at least draw his attention away from the eyeful he was taking of Jimmy.

“I’d say you are – in this respect.” Thomas shot back and Jimmy couldn’t help but grin, pleased that they could have their easy teasing here too.

Thomas smiled warmly back at him and Jimmy’s chest seized with emotion. He held Thomas’ hand a little tighter in response, as though his grip would ensure that they would not be wrested apart the next morning. In response, Thomas broke his gaze to press a kiss to the bare skin of his thigh. Jimmy swallowed tightly, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Will you –” he started but found he could not say it again. “Again?”

Thomas did not lift his head but instead pressed a trail of kisses along Jimmy’s thigh, around their joined hands before he took Jimmy’s cock back into the oven of his mouth.

“Ah!” Jimmy gasped, flinging his free hand back to support himself.

Thomas’ free hand came to curl around his shaft, cradling what the angle would not allow to fit in his mouth and Jimmy found he had to almost bite through his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Thomas’ mouth felt searing hot but the wet softness of his tongue – which Jimmy found he had time to appreciate this time – proved a counterpoint that set Jimmy’s heart rabbiting in his chest.

“Bloody hell.” Jimmy breathed, clutching desperately at the sheets on Thomas’ cot rather than crush the other man’s scarred hand. “T-Thomas.”

Thomas lifted his head then and met Jimmy’s eye and Jimmy could barely believe how debauched he looked, his pink lips stretched thin to accommodate Jimmy’s cock. His hips lifted somewhat of their own accord, flexing under their joined hands. Thomas’ eye drifted shut and his tongue rolled out across the head of Jimmy’s prick. Jimmy’s breath caught at the sight and his body swayed backwards, leaving him spread across Thomas’ bed.

He knew what he must look like, laid out and pliant beneath Thomas’ hands – beneath his mouth. He knew how the impatient quiver of his hip bones must have felt; he knew how the soft imploring noises that he could not hold back must have sounded. He knew because of the way Thomas responded to them – the way his nails caught on Jimmy’s skin when Jimmy’s hips hitched, the way he took more of Jimmy into his mouth when Jimmy whimpered. 

The touch of Thomas’s fingers behind his balls made him flinch and he had to fling his right arm across his face to hide his burning cheeks. He could hardly believe how far they’d come, that he was sprawled bare across Thomas’ bed with his legs spread for the other man like a common harlot. Thomas’ cheek scraped across Jimmy’s skin and sent a shudder up his spine. He carded his left hand through Thomas’ hair, flustered. Thomas lifted his head in response and Jimmy flinched as his wet, straining cock slipped from the other man’s mouth to smack wetly against his own stomach.

Thomas huffed a laugh and even his hot breath against Jimmy’s still damp skin caused him to gasp.

“Jimmy. Are you sure this what you want?” Thomas asked then, the weight of the question emphasised by the soft press of his fingers against the cleft of Jimmy’s arse.

Jimmy tensed. He knew vaguely what Thomas meant but he could not find the words to reply, struck by the enormity of what it would mean to concede to the other man – what it would make him.

“I don’t –” he breathed. “Thomas, I don’t know.”

Thomas’ fingers stilled and then slipped away. He pressed a kiss to Jimmy’s thigh once more before running his tongue over the line of muscle that cut down from Jimmy’s abdomen to his groin.

Jimmy a took breath before straining to lift the weight of his head from the mattress to look down at the other man. Thomas was watching him in return and smiled up at him when their eyes met. Warmth spread through Jimmy’s chest, chasing away the uncertainty and fear that had flared there at Thomas’ suggestion, and he found himself smiling back.

“Would you rather to do things the other way around?” Thomas asked, voice soft.

“I don’t know.” Jimmy said again, helpless against the assault of images that Thomas’ suggestions brought to mind.

His mind stuttered over the image of Thomas’ long legs around his waist but-

“What is it like?” he asked, cheeks heating.

Thomas’ lips quirked, his eyes alight with amusement and heat as he regarded Jimmy for a long moment.

“Giving or receiving?” he prompted and Jimmy let his head drop back against the mattress, unable to hold Thomas’ gaze as heat spread across his face.

“Have you done both?” he questioned.

“I have.” Thomas murmured, his chin resting gently on Jimmy’s hip.

Jimmy could feel the prickle of Thomas’ five o’clock shadow on his skin. He lifted his right hand from the mattress and soothed his palm across Thomas’ cheek, shivering at the rasp of the other man’s stubble beneath his fingers. Thomas leant into the touch and Jimmy was reminded suddenly of the barn cats that he and Thomas pet when they skived off for a cigarette. Thomas loved them and Jimmy suddenly understood why.

The cats would slink out of the sheds and barn at the sound of voices. They would keep their distance initially but by the time Thomas would pass the cigarette back to Jimmy for the second time, there would be at least one cat slinking around his ankles, mewing softly.

Thomas never tried to pet them, leaving them to their own devices, but spoke to them gently and brought them small tidbits from the kitchen when he could.

Jimmy’s Ma had had a cat when Jimmy was small and perhaps because of this, he always tried to pet them. But they only tolerated Jimmy and on the off chance that they would let Jimmy pet them, he was only allowed to for a moment before they bit at his hands. Thomas laughed at him every time Jimmy cursed at them, shaking his fingers indignantly, but he admonished Jimmy if he kicked at them or tried to chase them away.

Thomas, Jimmy thought, was the same. He was suspicious of others and their intentions, and could only tolerate a moment of kindness, of gentleness, before his sharp tongue would chase it away.

Except for Jimmy. It seemed Thomas had always made exceptions for Jimmy and Jimmy felt the cold sensation in his gut open up once more at the thought that with Jimmy gone, Thomas would have no one that would even try to be kind to him.

“Thomas.” He urged, drawing the other man up onto the bed and over himself like a blanket. “Kiss me.”

Thomas’ expression was quizzical but he obliged and Jimmy hummed happily as the distraction of the other man’s mouth filled him with heat once more. Pressed chest to chest as they were, Jimmy spread his legs to allow Thomas between them, huffing when the movement made Thomas swear and collapse onto his elbows, his stomach firm against Jimmy’s cock, his own clothed arousal pressed to Jimmy’s balls.

This is how it would feel, Jimmy thought dizzily through the fog of his own desire, to have Thomas. To take him - trapped beneath him and open for him.

“God.” He gasped, tearing his mouth away. “Tell me how it feels.” He said then. “To – to take someone.”

Thomas’ attention had turned to Jimmy’s throat, hot tongue lathing paths over Jimmy’s skin. He lifted his head.

“I’d wager it’s similar to taking a woman.” He mused softly. “But tighter.”

Jimmy frowned, confused. “No.” he said. “I mean – to…” he trailed off, flustered, embarrassed.

Thomas pushed himself back up onto his hands, his weight reasting on his right palm by Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Oh.” He breathed, realisation dawning on his face. “You mean to take someone – inside.”

Jimmy swallowed thickly, watching as Thomas’ face went slack with pleasure, his pupils blown wide, his eyes almost black in the candle’s failing light.

“Jimmy.” Thomas breathed and his hips rolled, up and into the spread of Jimmy’s legs.

Jimmy gasped as the hard bulge of Thomas’ arousal ground deliciously against his own. He clutched at Thomas’ shoulders, hitching his hips against the pressure as much as he could, pinned beneath the taller man. Thomas hissed, sucking air between his teeth and dropped his chin to meet Jimmy’s gaze before rolling his hips again, grinning when Jimmy’s mouth fell open around a moan.

“Shh.” Thomas admonished, hitching his hips again and catching the resulting moan with a kiss. “You have to stay quiet.”

“You have to tell me what it feels like.” Jimmy shot back and Thomas laughed softly.

“It feels –” he began as he rolled his hips again. “Like this.”

Jimmy nodded hurriedly, urging Thomas on. “Like this?”

Thomas huffed out a breath. “Like this.” He confirmed, grinding his hips down. “Like this – but deeper. Like it’s happening at the core of you.”

“Oh, God.” Jimmy whimpered, curling his nails into the meat of Thomas’ shoulders as desire flared through him. “Does it hurt?”

Thomas shook his head, keeping a steady rhythm with his hips. “No.” he breathed. “Not when it’s done right. But you – you have to take your time. Go slow.”

Jimmy found himself breathless at the thought. “Would you go slow – with me?”

“Oh God!” Thomas groaned, deep and _loud_.

They both froze, listening to the echo of Thomas’ pleasure reverberate around the room, waiting to hear footsteps or voices outside. Jimmy’s heart pounded in his chest, his body tight with adrenaline and panic.

When no sound came from the hallway, Thomas dropped his head into the curve of Jimmy’s shoulder and it wasn’t for a long moment that Jimmy realised that the other man was shaking against him.

“Thomas?” he asked, his desire chased away by the moment of panic and now worry for the other man.

A soft snort was Thomas’ only reply and Jimmy realised with a jolt that the other man was laughing, snickering into the side of his throat.

“Thomas!” Jimmy whispered, equal parts appalled and amused. “Shush!”

“M’sorry.” Thomas mumbled. “It’s just –  I can’t believe this is happening.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes, impatient, and more than a little charmed by Thomas’ helpless giggles. He rolled his hips with a little more force than before, a pointed encouragement for Thomas get back to the matter at hand.

Thomas chuckled again and Jimmy was about to join him when the other man’s left hand slid between them and roughly against his half-hard prick, and the sound caught in his throat.

But Thomas’ hand continued southward, past Jimmy’s prick, and Jimmy started  when he felt the other man’s fingers curl between his cheeks once more. This time, however, he willed his legs to spread wider – inviting the sensation, though it made him flush to see how his knees shook, stretched to straining around Thomas.  

Jimmy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tamping down on the feeling of apprehension that the strangeness of Thomas’ touch caused.  
  
“That’s it.” Thomas said, all amusement gone from his tone as his fingers pressed deeper, flexing right against the tight furl of Jimmy’s hole. “That’s right.”

Jimmy whined, turning his head away but that only left the side of this throat vulnerable and Thomas swooped down to kiss and bite his way along it. Jimmy’s hips rocked up, trying to get some friction against his neglected prick, and suddenly he felt the tip of Thomas’ finger brush _inside_.

“ _Ah!”_

Thomas’ questing fingers left him then for a long moment and when they returned, they were wet with slick. Jimmy could not help the soft questioning noise that left his lips. Thomas leant up and away, kneeling between Jimmy’s thighs, pressed a soft kiss to the inside of Jimmy’s knee.

“Shh.” He soothed. “It’s just a little something to ease the way.”

Jimmy’s face heated anew and he clenched involuntarily as one of Thomas’ fingers breached him. Shockingly, he felt his eyes prickle with tears and flung an arm across his face. He felt overwhelmed – as though Thomas was taking him apart, changing him irrevocably.  

“Relax.” Thomas coaxed, his voice as rough and deep as Jimmy had ever heard it.

The press of Thomas’ finger burned and Jimmy lifted his hips, questing away from the sensation before pushing back into it, determined. Thomas seemed to sense his frustration and looped his free hand around Jimmy’s thigh to wrap a greased palm around Jimmy’s prick.

Jimmy’s gasp of surprise melted into a deep sigh when the burn of Thomas’ finger sunk into the licks of pleasure simmering under his skin as Thomas stroked his cock.

“That’s it.” Thomas murmured and Jimmy felt him press deeper still before withdrawing his finger and replacing it with two.  

Jimmy seized at the sensation and wondered belatedly – given the stretch of two fingers – how Thomas ever intended to fit inside him. He wondered if he could bear it at all or if he would simply split apart or melt under the heat of his own pleasure – or the shame at his own wantonness.

“God Jimmy, the sight of you.”

Jimmy removed the arm from across his eyes as he felt the bed dip as Thomas moved over him. Thomas loomed in the failing light of the candle on his dresser, his eyes dark with want and his mouth still slick and red from its earlier occupation. The sight of him was almost enough to distract from his questing fingers, from the way Jimmy could feel himself loosening around them. But then Thomas pressed back in with three instead of two and the hot sting of the stretch burned anew, forcing the tears to slip from the corners of his eyes and onto his cheeks.

Hours ago, he’d had Lady Anstruther in a similar position but it boggled the mind to think about it when Thomas’ long fingers brushed something inside of him that made his legs fall even further apart. It gave Thomas more room to move between them and soon Jimmy found his thighs cradling Thomas’ trim waist, the other man’s arm trapped between them. Jimmy knew suddenly that if he weren’t muffled – and soon – the pleasure building within him would burst forth on a shout.

“Thomas.” He huffed, pawing gracelessly at the tears on his face. “Kiss me.” 

Thomas fell upon him in a moment – his earlier hesitation gone – and his mouth was slick and hungry against Jimmy’s, his seeking tongue – the perfect gag for the cries that began to bubble out of Jimmy as Thomas’ fingers curled and sought.

Jimmy felt possessed. He felt smothered under Thomas’ weight and owned by the way Thomas played on the reactions of his body. It was overwhelming but he found that it helped to quell the gaping sensation in his gut. How could he possibly leave in the morning when he was so ensnared by this man? The way Thomas was pressed to him – was pressed into him – made it seem more likely that they would meld physically together than be torn apart in the hours to come.

But the chance of it – the inevitability of it, the rational part of his mind whispered – was enough to make him desperate. Desperate for something to hold onto: a memory. A memory that paid some sort of homage to the daydreams that had haunted him for so many months. A memory that left no illusions to the fact that Thomas loved him. A memory that was a testament to what he felt for the other man in return. He doubted that he’d ever say it out loud – even now – but he could show Thomas, he could show him that –

“Jimmy.” Thomas panted against his mouth. “Are you sure?”

Jimmy was hit by a sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of it – that Thomas should ask if he were sure now – now when Jimmy was spread across his bed like a ha’penny whore – when Thomas had already taken him so thoroughly apart and made him into something new – someone new. And when Thomas was – when he meant to –

“Quite sure, Mr. Barrow.” He managed, frustrated. “In fact, if you could get on with it – ”

But Thomas kissed the words from his mouth.

Jimmy’s resolve wavered only once as Thomas moved away to kneel between his legs. Thomas stretched and snagged a small jar from the dresser with his right hand, dipping his fingers into it before smearing the oil along his own cock. Jimmy swallowed at the sight of it and his resolve faltered when he saw the size of Thomas’ prick, long and broad in his own palm.

Thomas came forward once more, resting his left hand on Jimmy’s chest, his right still cradling his prick.

“Jimmy?” he asked once again.

Jimmy found he was unable to speak at Thomas’ tone. The other man sounded so awed but more than a little unsure – as though his disbelief still won out, even now. He curled a hand around Thomas’ left wrist to steady himself, to steady Thomas, to ground them both.

“Do it.” He murmured. “Do it.”

Thomas’ mouth dropped open, his expression slack, as though Jimmy’s urging had snapped the last ties of restraint he had held himself by, and in that moment,  Jimmy was almost overcome by the enormity of what he felt for Thomas. He held the emotion tightly in his chest, worried that the words might slip between his lips on his unsteady breath, as Thomas fit himself between his thighs and pressed forward.  

The first breach stole the breath from Jimmy’s lungs and he curled his fingernails into the skin of Thomas’ wrist, his face crumpling against the sting of it.

“Easy.” Thomas said, low and strained.

Now positioned, Thomas’ right hand wound around Jimmy’s thigh, pulling him closer, forcing himself deeper. Jimmy cried out, arching up and away, but Thomas held him fast and - for a moment - Jimmy hated him for it and thrashed, trying to free himself.

“Darling.” Thomas breathed and wrenched his wrist free of Jimmy’s grip, catching Jimmy’s trembling hand in his own and pressing it over Jimmy’s head into the pillows, their fingers interlocked. Jimmy sobbed on his next breath.

“Oh, darling.” Thomas said again and pressed an open kiss to the upturned point of Jimmy’s chin, sliding it down so that he could mouth wetly at Jimmy’s throat.

Thomas’ hips shifted again and Jimmy clutched at the back of the other man’s neck with his free hand, the slap of skin between his palm and Thomas’ skin echoing throughout the room, chased by Jimmy’s relieved exhale when Thomas’ hipbones kissed the back of his thighs.

“Quiet.” Warned Thomas, his voice strained and his breath hot and damp against Jimmy’s throat.

Jimmy huffed, exasperated, and so – full. The ache between his legs made him hot all over. Was this, he wondered, how women felt? Did they ache with it? Did it burn just as fiercely? If so, he mused, it was no wonder they were so chaste. He felt as though he was coming apart at the seams, stuffed full to bursting, and he well might’ve if it weren’t for the desperation that Thomas held him with, the other man’s larger body pressing down into him, keeping him in place, together.

Thomas shifted then and the slick sensation, the slide of him – of his cock – made Jimmy gasp harshly. His hips ducked away from the burn that he felt was sure to come, only to be thwarted by Thomas when the other man gathered a handful of his hip and held him fast as he shifted again, pressing forward.

But, Jimmy was relieved to find, the burn was inconsequential. There was only Thomas, the scent of him and the rasp of his stubble across Jimmy’s throat. There was only the sound of their ragged breathing and – Jimmy blushed to realise – the soft, wet noise that came from the space between them with each wave-like roll of Thomas’ hips.

And in the soft light of the dwindling candle on Thomas’ dresser, it felt as though the long moments might stretch forever, that they would be locked together like this until Downton collapsed around them. Jimmy welcomed the thought and clutched at Thomas’, willing it to be so.

Thomas pressed his weight onto his elbow and lifted himself from Jimmy’s neck and Jimmy blinked hazily as the other man’s face came into view once more.

Thomas’ eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed, his mouth slightly ajar, lips still slick from the way he’d been panting into the side of Jimmy’s throat. Jimmy strained up to kiss him, wanting – more than anything in that moment – to kiss the salt sting of his skin from Thomas’ mouth and taste. Thomas obliged him, his breath coming long and slow with the roll of his hips. It fanned across the spit-damp skin of Jimmy’s throat and made him shiver.

Thomas’ rhythm faltered and Jimmy wheezed out a small hurt noise as the other man’s hips hitched harder against him, the slide of Thomas’ cock in him flaring bright with pain once more.

“Sorry.” Thomas breathed. “Sorry –”

“Shh.” Jimmy scolded, too overcome by sensation to concentrate on what Thomas was saying. “Just -” The bright flare of pain had receded but Jimmy found himself desperate then to replace its memory with the slow slick slide of Thomas cock.

He squirmed, trying to free his pelvis from the weight of Thomas above him, trying to rock away from the ache of the other man within him and into him all at once.

“Jimmy.” Thomas hissed and he caught Jimmy’s hand once more in his own, pressing it back into the pillows above Jimmy’s head.  “Stop.”

Jimmy flexed into the strain the position put on his shoulder, trying to touch his chest to Thomas’ own. When he could not quite reach, he strained instead to press a chaste kiss to the point of Thomas’ chin. From there, he could see the way the muscles in Thomas’ jaw twitched, and could feel the tremors running down the arm that Thomas had his weight propped against. He could feel the strain of tension running through Thomas’ whole body, the other man seemingly unwilling to move and risk hurting Jimmy again.

“Come on.” Jimmy breathed then. The ache of Thomas between his legs felt as though it might drive him insane but with Thomas refusing to move, he could do little but try to press himself back against the other man and seek his pleasure that way. “Come on!”

“Shh!” Thomas hissed back. “God, Jimmy. Just –l”

“I’m askin’.” Jimmy begged then, too loud. “Please!”

“Christ!” Thomas grit out and his hips kicked forward - once, twice – harder than before, seemingly right into the core of Jimmy, who felt he could have wept from the relief of it.

“Yes!” He hissed, pawing at the back of Thomas’ neck with his free hand, his palm slipping on the sweat beginning to gather on Thomas’ shoulders.   
  
“God, Jimmy, shut up.” Thomas scolded. His voice was rough but Jimmy could still make out the note of amusement in Thomas’ tone.

“More.” He said again, softer, just so he could watch the way it made Thomas’ eyes swoop heavy and low. “Please. M’askin’.”

Thomas’ reaction was a beautiful thing, his face falling slack with pleasure once more. Better still, Jimmy decided, was the uneven hitch of Thomas’ hips into him, the slide of the other man’s cock quelling the ache between Jimmy’s legs and stoking it all at once.  
  
With Thomas’ warning fresh in his mind, Jimmy caught his own bottom lip between his teeth to hold in the words he could feel clawing their way up his throat. They flashed across his mind as Thomas’ rhythm stretched into a steady pace, and threatened to slip from his mouth as the stroke of Thomas’ cock inside him chased the breath from his lungs.

“Jimmy.” Thomas breathed, and his scarred left hand touched the side of jimmy’s face, his thumb pressing gently at the seam Jimmy’s teeth held across his bottom lip. “Darling.”

Jimmy closed his eyes, overcome momentarily of the gentle caress of Thomas’ hand on his cheek and the punch of the other man’s cock into him. Thomas’ thumb curled into his bottom lip, easing it from beneath his teeth. Jimmy flushed as a soft sound escaped him, his self-imposed muzzle fractured with one soft touch.

But then Thomas all but collapsed above him, weight folding onto his elbows and releasing Jimmy’s hand. The action pressed them chest to chest, the burn of Thomas’ stubbled jaw at his throat once more. Despite the chill of the room, their skin was tacky with sweat and Jimmy gasped as the damp head of his cock caught on Thomas’ stomach; just a tease of friction, so barley-there and unpredictable that Jimmy could have wept with frustration.

“Please.” He whispered, his hands sliding across Thomas shoulders to fist in the other man’s hair, turning his head so that Jimmy could press his lips to the shell of Thomas’ ear. “Please”

The curse on Thomas’ lips was barely a whisper. “Ask me.”

Heat rushed through Jimmy, arousal and shame in equal measure. He kicked his hips back and let his breath shudder out of him as his cock slid between the hot press of their stomachs. “Please.” He managed once more, unable to find the words for all the rest.

“Please what?”

Jimmy hitched his hips again but this time, Thomas moved with him and instead of the friction Jimmy desperately sort, his prick thrust into thin air. His cock, Jimmy flushed to find, was so stiff that it swayed in the space between them, moisture pearling at the head.

“Please what?” Thomas asked again, but his voice was barely a whisper and his gaze felt like a brand across Jimmy’s skin.

He closed his eyes under the scrutiny, ashamed when more tears leaked from their corners. It was worth the assault on his pride though when Thomas made a soft noise and lowered himself once more to kiss  at the wet trails on Jimmy’s face.

“Darling -”

“ _Please_!”

Thomas’ hips heaved against him then and Jimmy all but melted with relief when he realised that he had broken Thomas’ control, that the man above him had very little choice but to take Jimmy hard –  in just the way Jimmy ached for it.

“ _Jimmy_ \- I – Oh _God_!” Thomas panted into his throat and Jimmy almost felt guilty about how effective his wantonness had been against Thomas’ resolve when he heard the concern in Thomas’ tone. The other man was worried about hurting him, he realised - he _knew -_ but while Jimmy felt splayed open, faint, and ached all at once, the pleasure building in his gut – fanned by the almost frantic thrust of Thomas’ cock into him - was the perfect relief for the hollowness that had consumed Jimmy for most of the evening. He would not be able to bear it, he thought, if Thomas demurred yet again and the feeling overcame him once more.

“Yes.” He gasped, turning his head to press his lips to the curve of Thomas’ ear. “Yes. _God_. Yes.”

Thomas’ response was the foulest curse Jimmy had heard him utter and a brutal kick of his hips that wrenched another gasp from Jimmy as Thomas’ cock stretched him fast and wide.

No-one would take this from them, Jimmy thought wildly, clutching at the hard knots of Thomas’ shoulders. They could send him away and ostracise Thomas, but no-one would ever take this memory from them. Thomas would always be the first man to have taken Jimmy this way – the only man, his traitorous brain supplied, because he knew Thomas would be the only one he ever loved enough to sacrifice so much of his pride – and they would always share this.

It would keep them tied, keep them connected, keep them bound, no matter how far Jimmy travelled or how many beautiful women he kissed or how much champagne he drank. He would share this with Thomas, always. He would be Thomas’ always and while Thomas remained at Downton, while Thomas lived, Jimmy would be remembered – and loved.

Jimmy was jolted from his thoughts by Thomas pulling away once more, supporting his weight on his scarred left hand while his right disappeared between them, his deft fingers curling around Jimmy’s cock.

It was too much – pace too fast, touch too light - and before he was aware of moving, Jimmy found his left hand curled over Thomas’ right, their fingers interlocking around his cock. He slowed the jerk of Thomas’ wrist and squeezed the other man’s fingers tighter around his cock, only partially aware of how wet his cock was, their sweat and his own arousal slicking their palms.

“Like this. Like this.” He begged and Thomas kissed him, muttering a muffled admonishment for the volume of his voice.

“Like this?” Thomas whispered when the need for air drove them apart and though Jimmy felt suddenly shy under Thomas dark gaze, he nodded frantically.

“Yes, Thomas.” He breathed, watching as the breath caught in Thomas’ lungs.

“Will you spend like this?” Thomas breathed, his hair heavy with sweat and hanging about his forehead and the tips of his ears.

 Jimmy pushed the damp strands back with his free hand and held them, his fingers curling into Thomas’ hair. He watched dazedly as Thomas’ head lolled back into the pull, his eyes slipping shut with a heavy breath.

“Will you spend in me?” Jimmy replied, shocked by his own words as they fell from his lips, but knowing immediately that he wanted it.

Thomas’ head fell forward, their foreheads slipping wetly against one another.

“God, Jimmy. Your foul mouth.” Thomas said, but the kick of his hips told Jimmy that he quite liked it, however foul. “And I won’t –” Thomas continued then. “Until I have seen you come apart beneath me.”

Jimmy’s breath seized in this chest and he tumbled over the edge, his pleasure ripped from him so suddenly that he did not even have time to warn Thomas. It was a happy coincidence then that Thomas had chosen that moment to kiss Jimmy once more and the shout that broke from Jimmy’s chest as his pleasure peaked was nothing more than a heartfelt groan against the other man’s mouth.

Jimmy had never felt anything like it. Not by his own hand or that of another. It seemed to go on and on, his pleasure flaring bright with every other roll of Thomas’ hips. It was so intense that Jimmy shook with it, his thighs straining against Thomas’ waist as he rode out the other man’s thrusts, and all the while – Thomas watched him, his gaze trailing hot over Jimmy’s skin as he spent.

Jimmy did his best to keep the other man’s gaze but the sensations wracking through him made it impossible and, just as Thomas’ thrusts into him began to ache, Jimmy allowed his eyes to close. He felt taken apart, as though he had been deconstructed by the force of his pleasure, only to be put back together by the fierce look of adoration on Thomas’ face, the hard grip he held Jimmy with and the cloying weight of Thomas above him, pinning Jimmy to the cot even as he became over sensitive to touch and tried to shy away.

“Please.” Jimmy found himself begging once more, so torn apart by his pleasure that he did not know whether he was asking Thomas to stop or to keep pressing into him, to keep using him. “ _Please_ , Thomas.”

“Look at me.” Thomas ordered and Jimmy opened his eye to watch the other man come apart.

Thomas’ pleasure seemed to crest just as suddenly and as violently as Jimmy’s had done, catching Thomas on an inhale and stealing the air from his lungs with a harsh wheeze. Jimmy’s own breath caught in his throat at the sight of Thomas coming undone above him. He could feel Thomas’ cock throbbing inside of him, could feel the slick of the other man as Thomas drew his hips back awkwardly, rhythm shot to heck as he shuddered, muscles tensed, through his own near silent climax.

The moment after were far too short. Jimmy, his limbs and mind still lazy with pleasure, would have lain with Thomas above him, in him, until the first rays of sunlight hot Downton’s grounds but once Thomas’ breathing had begun to slow, he moved his hands under him and began to lever himself up.

“Don’t!” Jimmy breathed, his hands clutching at Thomas as the other man made to move away. “Please.”

Thomas paused, his gaze trickling over Jimmy’s stricken face. “Did I hurt you?”

Jimmy rolled his head to and fro across Thomas’ pillow, feeling his face crumple as the miniscule distance between them allowed the cold, hollow feeling to seep back into his gut.

“No, no,” he hurried to reassure Thomas, hands clutching at the other man. “Just-stay.”

“Stay?” Thomas asked, his gaze searching Jimmy’s face.

Jimmy swallowed and dipped his chin slightly, his throat suddenly tight with emotion as he tried to steady his gaze with Thomas’.

“Ask me.” Thomas whispered and Jimmy’s breath caught in his throat and he relaxed his hands, releasing the grip they had on the other man’s skin.

Thomas would not leave him, Jimmy realised, and he did not have to hold him so tightly. He swept his hands over Thomas’ shoulder blades and the lengths of his biceps, trying to soothe away the red marks his hands had left there only moments before.

“Ask me, Jimmy.” Thomas breathed just as Jimmy’s palm brushed over his stubble rough cheek.

Jimmy wet his lips with his tongue, the emotion in his throat bubbling over, and he knew suddenly that when he spoke, his voice would shake.

“Please stay.” He whispered anyway. “Just for a little longer.”

Thomas’ answering smile was a gentle, sad wisp of a thing. He took a moment to lower himself gently to the side, slotting in between Jimmy and the edge of the narrow bed, anchoring himself with his arms wound around Jimmy.

“For as long as I can.” He promised, laying his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. “For as long as I have you.”


End file.
